


It Takes Two (Or Five)

by BestDeadFriendsForever



Series: One Messy Family [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Constance-centric, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:41:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestDeadFriendsForever/pseuds/BestDeadFriendsForever
Summary: Constance realizing how she loves not only d'Artagnan but the other three Musketeers





	

_Aramis_

     With Aramis it’d been easy. He was a suave man with a gentle and kind heart. Constance had liked him since she’d overheard what Aramis said when she’d slapped him the first time. It’d made her flush from pride. She hadn’t approached him for a myriad of reasons: she was married (before Jacques died), she was already in love with d’Artagnan, and she’d thought he was already involved with another (she’d actually suspected that he was in love with Porthos and Athos but would never imagine they were together). It wasn’t until the boys had finally told her about them, before she married d’Artagnan (poor boy couldn’t keep a secret from her to save his life), that she’d even considered anyone other than d’Artagnan.

     It was the night d’Artagnan had finally come clean and told her. She’d asked if she could have some time alone to think and the boys had gracefully bowed out of the room. She’d immediately grabbed up their uniforms so she could patch them up and make them pretty again. She always did her best thinking when she was sewing. She was stitching one of Athos’s shirt collars when Aramis slid into the room. He was always so quiet on his feet and she’d hardly registered he was there before he sat down next to her.

     “Might I help?” He asked quietly and let his fingers brush against the back of her hand. She looked up and shrugged.    

     “If you like.” She nudged the sewing basket closer to him and he took up a needle, thread, and one of d’Artagnan’s shirts. He smiled as he looked it over and found the hole in the side.    

     “I remember this one,” Aramis said as he poked his finger through the hole in the thin fabric. “Athos,” he smirked and sent Constance a wink. “Grabbing hands are not well mixed with thin shirts.”    

     Constance set her sewing in her lap as she thought about what he was saying. “Aramis, am I a fool?” She asked genuinely and looked at him. He seemed taken aback by her question. “I mean, he’s so obviously in love with you lot and I never noticed ‘til he told me straight out.”    

     Aramis took a deep breath and avoided her eye by threading his needle and beginning to mend d’Artagnan’s shirt. “You’re not a fool, Madame.” His voice was soft as he stitched up the side of her love’s shirt with such tenderness in his eyes. “You would never have imagined such a thing so you simply saw only what you thought was truly there.” He stitched carefully and when he finished he smiled as he ran his fingers over the closed material. “I really must tell the boys to mind the needlework,” he sighed long-sufferingly, “but it’s not as if they’d start listening now.” He looked up and smiled at Constance.    

     Her breath caught in her throat at the way the firelight glinted off his hair and danced in his dark eyes. She smiled hesitantly and chewed her lip as she looked back to her forgotten sewing. He reached to tuck her hair behind her ear before tilting her chin up.    

     “May I kiss you, Constance?” Not only did his question catch her off-guard but that was also the first time he’d called her by her first name. His voice was soft and she suddenly felt very warm.    

     “I’m… I don’t know,” she said honestly. She glanced to where the other boys had disappeared. “I think d’Artagnan might mind.”    

     “Are you going to let d’Artagnan make all your decisions for you?” Aramis asked. It wasn’t a dig or a criticism. It felt a bit freeing to think about it actually. d’Artagnan was not Jaques. He would not control her. She shook her head in answer to his questions. “Then I ask again: may I kiss you, Constance?”    

     She bit her lip and watched as his eyes focused on her mouth. After a tense moment she nodded. “Alright.” He smiled and it only made him look even more devilishly handsome. He cupped a warm hand to her cheek and brought her in for a sweet, yet surprisingly chaste, kiss. She broke the kiss first and smiled despite herself. Something in her was whispering about how dirty this was, how improper, how unlady-like, but she smothered that voice with her happiness.    

     “Moving in on my lady already?” d’Artagnan was standing in the doorway, his hair mussed and shirt hanging open. He was smiling brightly as he looked the two of them over. “When I said I shared everything with you, as my lovers, this wasn’t exactly what I meant.” He laughed and moved to press a kiss to the top of her head. She flushed and glared up at him.    

     “d’Artagnan!” She slapped his leg playfully and he just chuckled.    

     “But I guess I won’t complain about the view.” He winked at Aramis and she huffed in faux indignance as she returned to Athos’s shirt collar. She was warmed and content from the inside, out.

_Porthos_

     Constance hadn’t really given much thought to how kissing Aramis might have changed things. It wasn’t until she was hanging laundry, with Aramis and d’Artagnan “helping” (meaning they were racing through the lines wrestling each other like children), that she gave it any thought. She looked over to where Porthos was laughing and shouting things at both the wrestling men that she felt her stomach turn in the most pleasant way. Porthos was the most intimidating figure, but the gentlest of all of the Musketeers that darkened her doorstep nearly every night. He finally grabbed up d’Artagnan, who breathlessly protested through his laughs, and settled him on the fence where Athos was reading.    

     “Alright, enough you lot.” He shook his head. “You’re kicking up dust into the Madame’s freshly cleaned sheets.” He cuffed Aramis ‘round the head softly and pointed. Aramis sheepishly smiled at her and she waved it off.    

     “They’re fine, Porthos. They’re less likely to get in my way if they’re occupied with each other,” she teased. d’Artagnan grinned and she almost thought she heard him make a comment about staying occupied into Athos’s ear. The older man didn’t even glance up from his reading when he shoved d’Artagnan. The Gascon yelped as he nearly lost his balance and fell to the ground.    

     Porthos walked over and took a sheet and shook it out. “Allow me,” he said and smoothed it out along the line before taking the pins that were dangling from her fingers. He smiled at her as he secured the sheet onto the line.    

     “Thank you,” she said and got on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He was smiling and he turned his head before she realized and her kiss landed on his lips instead of his cheek. She flushed and pulled back. She blinked before putting her hands on his shoulders so she could kiss him properly. His hands moved to the small of of her back, steadying her since she had to get up so high to be able to kiss him. When she pulled back again he was smiling brightly. Then she heard something crash and the sound of d’Artagnan swearing and Aramis lecturing him for swearing. She and Porthos poked their heads to see d’Artagnan had somehow crashed into one of her sewing lines and pulled her clean sheet to the ground.    

     She huffed and put her hands on her hips angrily. “Inside! All of you.” Athos looked up mildly from his book and she waved her hand at him. “Not you.” Porthos frowned and finally she relented. “Alright just d’Artagnan and Aramis then!” They laughed as they took the dirtied sheet inside with them. Constance rolled her eyes before returning with Porthos to hanging the laundry.

 _Athos_   

     Constance had expected Athos to be the last one comfortable with her presence in their relationship. He had many reasons to distrust women, so Constance didn’t take it personally when Athos tended to be closer to the men than to her. She’d resigned herself to Athos’s cool demeanor forever until he came stumbling in late one night.    

     The other boys had already come home. d’Artagnan’s face was like thunder as he told Constance that Athos would be coming home from the tavern later. He was frustrated about something but soon enough Aramis and Porthos’s coaxing hands had gotten him upstairs. She hummed as she finished tidying up for the night when Athos staggered into the house. She merely spared him a glance before setting the dishes into the sink to be scrubbed in the morning. She turned and froze as she noticed how openly Athos was staring at her.    

     “Athos?” She asked softly and wiped her hands on her skirts. “Bed?” She asked and nodded toward the stairs.    

     “I’m fine,” he said and it was slightly mumbled but he didn’t seem like he wouldn’t be able to get up the stairs on his own.    

     The room was tensely silent. She didn’t think Athos would hurt her or anything like that, it was just uncomfortable. “Well,” she said after what seemed an eternity, “I’m going to bed I think.” She headed toward the stairs but stopped when a hand touched her shoulder. She turned her head to see Athos’s blue eyes wide with something she could only say resembled fear.    

     “Don’t leave me,” he said. She softened and took the hand from her shoulder to cradle it between both of her own.    

     “Then come with me.” She pressed a kiss to his hand and tugged it gently to get him walking up the stairs. She had to walk slowly so he didn’t stumble but they made it and into the bedroom. Aramis was the only one still awake. He looked up from where he was reading the scripture but she waved him off when he moved to help her. She unbuttoned Athos’s doublet and slid it off his shoulders. She knelt and helped him toe off his boots. When she stood he lurched a little closer and she held his waist to steady him. “Alright?” She asked and he nodded.    

     “Yes, thank you.” He leaned down and brushed a very fleeting kiss to the corner of her mouth. She guided him over to the bed, which woke up d’Artagnan and Porthos. They rearranged so that Aramis was closest to the fire since he was continuing to read, Porthos was next to him, Athos next to him, and d’Artagnan on Athos’s other side. Constance slipped out of her skirt and corset so she was just in her shift. She moved to settle next to d’Artagnan comfortably. She rested her head on his chest and smiled as he sighed contentedly.    

     “Goodnight,” Constance whispered and they all hummed in return. She drifted off feeling completely loved by all four of her Musketeers.


End file.
